Memories, so sweet and bitter
by honigbroetchen
Summary: John Druitt destroyed Helen's body, mind and spirit. He broke her into a million little pieces. She was convinced that no one could ever make her feel whole again. Warning: Story contains mentions of self harm and suicide attempt.
1. Chapter 1

Peace. That was what she finally felt. The pain had come and gone again, followed by an endless numbness but now everything was quiet, even peaceful.

Helen knew that it would be over soon. She could forget all the memories of John. Let them all go. It weren't the bad ones that caused her pain. It were all the happy moments they had together. The memory of the fragment of love they once had.

All Helen ever wanted had been in her range and all she had to do was to reach out and take it. She had never wanted perfection in life, never looked for it, she just wanted a little piece of heaven. Was it too much to ask for?

 _A family?_

 _A place to call home?_

 _Nothing more than just a feeling of belonging?_

John had given her everything she ever wanted but never dared to ask for. For a short moment everything was perfect. The time at Oxford was the happiest of her life.

She could study. Learn so many new things.

She had friends: friends who didn't laugh at her when she talked about science and got little stars shining in her eyes.

Society was something Helen had never really cared about. The world had more problems than just the newest gossip like who had an affair with whom or who wore the prettiest dress. Although Helen sometimes had to attend a few social events, she had never really fit in there perfectly. Helen's interests were far too different from those of the other women.

But together with her friends from Oxford she became involved in society again and learned a few important guidelines. People who changed the world had always been involved in society. It was simply the easiest way to get the attention of influential people.

Helen pushed the memory of all the parties and social events she had attended aside.

It didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered anymore to her.

James was the only one left for her but he would be better off without her. In the last few weeks she hadn't been really helpful in their work. She was distracted and always somewhere else with her thoughts.

James would take care of her Sanctuary. It was the only thing in her life which she was proud of.

Helen observed herself in the big looking glass while she undressed. The thought that John had touched her skin, touched her whole body and made her enjoy it, made her sick.

The murderer of so many innocent women had touched Helen and it made her feel dirty. No matter how often she took a hot bath with lots of soap, scrubbing her skin, she could still smell him on her.

Helen shivered. It wasn't for the cold but simply for the strength this memory still held on her.

The water was steaming hot when Helen entered the tub, still wearing her white corset. It felt good. Again it seemed to be a good way to leave this world. She had thought about taking pills or even using a gun but both would kill her too fast. What she needed was time.

Time to rethink her life and let her last thoughts linger on the man she would never stop to love but also who she wished to never have met. She wanted to fade away slowly, not to be blown away like a flower in a storm.

Helen sat a few minutes motionless in the hot water.

Her father was lost, James would overcome her death and society would stop talking about her suicide after a few days. No one was left to ask her to stay, to beg her not to do it.

Life wasn't worth living anymore. Not to her. She was alone.

Helen looked at her bare arms and touched all the small scars on her left arm. She had never understood how anyone could hurt themselves until the day she did the first cut herself.

Sometimes the physical pain was easier to take than the pain in her heart.

The pain ripped her heart apart and made her nearly lose her mind.

With every cut on her arm she was able to think clearer. Breath again.

Every cut gave her a little fragment of herself back. The person she used to be before she met John Druitt.

Everything she had in her life wasn't enough anymore… Wasn't worth living for.

Helen didn't want this life anymore. She didn't want other people to still see her as John's fiancé. She didn't want to be connected with this monster at all. But that was exactly the problem, wasn't it? He would always be a part of her and whatever she did she would never let go of him totally. Couldn't.

Naturally Helen had seen the bodies of people who had committed suicide but she had never understood why people actually did what they did, until now.

Now she knew how it felt to be broken, to lose everything she ever wanted. She wasn't able to hold on anymore. All she and John had ever connected was lost.

Helen carefully touched all the small scars.

It was his fault.

After all Helen was just another victim of John Druitt. One among many.

Taking the small knife with the sharp blade which she had prepared specially for tonight from the edge of her tub, she led it to her arm.

It hurt much more than she had imaged when she cut the first vein open. But with the pain she allowed herself to think of him. Think of the man she used to know. Used to love. Still loved. Her whole body arched from the pain in her heart. Every nice word John ever said to her where like stiches in her heart while the water turned slowly red.

 _The first cut hurt._

 _The second cut reminded her that there was nothing left in her life that was worth living for._

 _And with the third cut Helen started to cry._

Her tears were for all the things she had thought she would never lose. But she had lost them. She had lost her heart, her love and her ability to trust. Helen lost so much of herself and she would never get it back because a part of her would always be with John. Connected to him. Inextricable.

Helen wondered if John spent his nights crying in his bed like she spent hers. Thinking about what he had done.

Helen should have never gone to Oxford. She should have married a man. A good man: whom her father should have chosen, with a big house and a good income. She should have lived like all the other girls in her time. Maybe she would have had children.

Then she would have never met John Druitt, never fallen in love with him and she wouldn't have ended up the way she was now. He had taken everything from her.

Helen dropped the knife. Her hand was shaking, she was shivering. Feeling feeble.

She could already feel how life left her while the water changed its colour into a dark shade of red.

Everything around her became quiet and she could feel her heart pounding fast. Soon it would be over.

Her whole body hurt. Helen thought about John. All the pain he had inflicted on her. All the happy moments they had together, they were the happiest in her whole life.

 _Helen remembered the very first time she saw him at Oxford._

 _She remembered the first time he appeared in her dreams, all those hours when she sat in class but couldn't concentrate because all her thoughts were with John._

 _The first time they went out together to the theatre; the first time they had dinner together._

 _The first time their hands had touched by accident._

 _The first time they kissed._

The memories faded and the room started to darken.

Helen was sure that the water was still hot but she was feeling cold. So cold.

 _She remembered all the sunsets they had seen together._

 _All the times she had looked into his eyes and forgot everything else that was going on around her._

 _The first time she woke up next to him in the morning. How he had looked at her. His eyes full of love._

 _The feeling she had when he took her in his arms._

 _Every time they laughed together._

He had been everything to her, the centre of her life.

Helen closed her eyes, slowly slipping away but her last thoughts were with John.

The man she would have done everything for. Who will always own her heart.

The man she hated so much but will never stop loving.


	2. Chapter 2

She felt pain.

It was cold; Helen's head hurt. Not only her body hurt but her whole being. Particularly her heart because she knew what the pain meant: it wasn't over for her. She had been fading away, had felt all the pain leave her body but someone pulled her back into this misery world.

She tried to swallow but her throat was too dry. A moan escaped her lips and she felt cool hands touching her cheeks and forehead.

Someone was speaking to her but Helen couldn't make out the words. All she heard was someone repeating her name over and over again. Helen tried to concentrate, to open her eyes but the pounding pain in her head grew and she slowly drifted away.

The next time she woke she heard loud voices. They sounded familiar but she couldn't place the particular timbres to the correct person. Again Helen tried to open her eyes but a sudden sickness rose in her. So she just lay quietly where she was and listened to their conversation.

"What the hell happened to her?" a man's voice demanded to know and Helen could feel a hand on hers.

"Is she going to be okay?" another man questioned fearfully.

"She isn't over it yet but it looks good. There is no infection. But she still lost an awful lot of blood, very nearly too much." answered a third voice quietly.

"What happened to her?" asked the first voice again.

She heard a sigh, then the last voice answered slowly "Helen was attacked by an abnormal."

"And this abnormal just cut her arms?" The second voice responded critically.

"Listen Nigel, Helen was attacked by an abnormal. She lost her weapon and in attempt to protect herself with her arms it sliced it open. What would have you done? Tried to protect yourself from serious damage with your feet?"

"Bugger off, James! I only wanted to know what had happened."

"I know, I'm sorry Nigel, it's just..."

"You are afraid of losing her. I know, we all are. There is no reason to apologize."

"I think she's running a fever." The first voice was suddenly very close to Helen. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. It smelled a bit of wine. Helen relaxed, the familiar smell gave her comfort.

She could feel his fingers on her face pushing a few curls of her hair away. Another hand touched her forehead.

"She's burning." Mumbled a voice. It sounded concerned.

It became harder for Helen to concentrate and she started to drift off slowly.

Long after Nigel and Nikola were gone, James was still sitting at Helen's side. He thought about the last few weeks again and again. He thought about Helen. About her behaviour, her body language, how she had talked to him.

Why hadn't he seen it coming? Helen never wanted to talk about John or their past. Sometimes James wondered if she wasn't suppressing everything. She had never said a word to him, always pretended to be fine. He really had thought that she could handle the situation. Thought that she was even getting over John. Helen always pretended to be so strong…

James blamed himself. He cared so much for her and had thought that they were close… Not even in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that Helen would be able to do something like this.

Until now James had never really understood what damage John had done to her. How he had broken and destroyed her in a way James couldn't even begin to understand.

He should have been there for her. He should have helped her in some way. James blamed himself for not seeing it coming earlier, he blamed John for being the obvious trigger and he blamed Helen for being so stubborn and not coming to him. He would have been there for her. Would always be there for her.

James also noticed the smaller scars on her arm. In the last few weeks Helen had only worn dresses which covered her arms fully but James hadn't really thought about it. It simply didn't seem essential to him. He had only put a few extra wood sticks into the fire in case she felt cold.

But he knew now that she had tried to cover all the scars. If he had seen them before he could have helped her. Somehow. He would have talked to her. Tried to get through to her. Naturally he had tried before but now it seemed to James that he hadn't tried hard enough. He could have prevented it - or so he thought.

John wasn't worth only one of her cuts. He wasn't even worth a single tear and James' anger with him grew with every new scar he discovered on Helen's arms. A few had already healed but others seemed fresh as if they were only a few days old.

Every little scar on her arms gave him a stich in his heart. It was new for him to be open to himself. To think about her in this way without remembering him that she wasn't his. Probably never would be. It was the first time that he committed to himself how deeply he really cared for her. It hurt him that she hadn't come to him but he could also understand her behaviour until a certain grade.

James watched Helen sleep. He didn't want to leave the room, not only for a minute. He was so afraid of what could happen if he let her out of his sight even for only minute!

Small pearls of sweat appeared on her forehead caused by the fever but James still thought that she looked beautiful. In his eyes she would always look amazing.

He couldn't deny that he had feelings for her. Looking back he should have fought for her heart. No matter that his best friend was also in love with her.

But it was too late now and James couldn't change anything. What had happened with John can't be changed now anyway.

But James would be there for her now no matter what. He wanted to help her through her own darkness and help her to be happy again. James wanted to see her smile again, he missed her laugh. He wanted to be with her, wanted every of her worries also to be his.

This time he would be there for her no matter what, even if she didn't want him, he would stay by her side.

He wiped the sweat away and wondered if she would ever look at him like she had looked at John. All the love she had had in her eyes for that monster.

John hadn't deserved her. Helen once told James that the worst thing for her was that John had lied to her.

 _She had asked him if he knew anything about the murdered prostitutes. - He said no._

 _She asked him if he knew anything about the Ripper himself. - He said no._

 _He promised to make her happy. - He lied._

James was deep in thoughts imagining all the things he would do to John Druitt if he would ever see him again. They had been best friends for years but now he wished nothing but misery and pain on him. Every scar on Helen's skin should be on John's!

Did John even know what he had done to Helen? Did he know how much he had hurt her? Did he know in how many pieces he had torn or heart?

If it wasn't for Helen's last note to James, he wouldn't have found her in time.

A small piece of paper in an envelope with his name on it was lying on his bed when he returned to the Sanctuary that night. He had recognized Helen's handwriting immediately.

It had only a few words written on it but it was enough to let James heart sink:

 _James,_

 _thank you for everything. Your loyalty and your friendship._

 _You really do have a kind heart and I wish you all the best._

 _I'm sorry._

 _Helen_

Naturally he had ran immediately to her private quarters. When he entered her bedroom everything seemed normal, no sign of Helen.

James was just about to leave again and to look somewhere else for her when he noticed that the door to her washroom was slightly open. A candle was burning inside; James could see the light flickering through the small opening. He knocked and called her name but didn't get an answer. Normally Helen wouldn't let candles burn if she wasn't in the same room. A sense of doom raised in James as he slowly opened the door.

He will never forget the picture in front of him: Helen lying lifeless in the tub. The water turned red from her blood and her skin was unnatural white. Even her ever so crimson red lips were blue and nearly translucent.

A knife was lying next to her on the floor and was also covered in blood.

Helen's eyes were closed and for a short moment James thought that he came too late. He nearly lost the ground under his feet.

Helen couldn't be dead, she simply couldn't! Panic and fear filled James as his hands started to tremble. His whole body was shaking. Coldness filled his inside and he could see black spots dancing in front of his eyes. It was one of the worst moments in his whole life.

There was nothing comparable with what he had felt in this moment.

Then he forced himself to move. Kneeling beside the tub, desperately trying to find a pulse. Her skin felt so cold under his fingers. For a heartbeat he really thought that Helen Magnus was dead. But then he found her pulse.

James lifted Helen out of the tub and laid her on the floor. He did his best to stop the bleeding. He could sense her fading away, with every heartbeat some more blood left her body.

He fought long and hard for her life and eventually he was sure that Helen was over the worst.

Naturally he wouldn't tell Nigel or Nikola what had really happened. That would be Helen's decision to make if she wanted them to know that she had tried to take her own life. He wouldn't say a thing.

Helen moaned slightly and it brought James back from his thoughts. She opened her eyes for a short moment but couldn't stay conscious for long.

James placed her hand between his and kissed it. This time he would fight for her.


End file.
